Under American jurisdiction or Case N13.
by Juliss the Severed Snake
Summary: Conclusion is uploaded!!...Randy at last joined the company at Hamunaptra, not to their great rapture (who would be happy if locked in crashing necropolis), and...the story begins!. Please read and review!
1. Not a very nice guy.

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**Disclaimer:** Well, well, I don't own all TM characters (and what the dude of reader would suspect I do?), but I own Julian   
Randy character, which is again not a big surprise cozz it's me! At least in some aspect. Have fun and tell me if I should   
continue the story, because it's only prologue! 

**P.S. Hey, i've got to say also-English is not my first language, so don't be too harsh about my grammar mistakes.**   
  
  
  


**Under American jurisdiction or Case N13.**

_By Seti the Last/High Priest of Seth_   


**Prologue: Not a very nice guy.**

"Is it usual for this season ?" asked Julian Randy idly, pointing at the window. 

American ambassador, Mr. Dannerwort, raised his eyes from the document which he had been reading during last two hours and asked irritably "What do you mean?" 

"I mean meteor raining", explained his secretary, looking with mild interest as huge ball of fire smashed against the tall minaret of Ibn Tulun Mosque. Not that Mr. Randy was too much distressed by the fact, because shrill cries of muezzins or whatever-was-their-name, those Islamic priests, used to awaken him at 5.00 AM every morning, to his great irritation. His lodgings were near the Embassy, on Sharia el Salibah street, and damned mosque loomed over the entire district like an overgrown bird of prey. 

Mr. Dannerwort, distracted from his reading, also took a look and choked. 

Broad straps of fire crossed the sky over Cairo city, reflecting in the river like the fireworks launched on some crazy   
carnival.   
"No, I don't think it's usual", puffed he at last, shoving Randy's report from the table and staring at the window,   
now colored in ominous red. "I think we must do something about it..." 

"Like what?" asked younger man coolly. "Take a bigbarrel of water and ran over the city, extinguishing fire? Or just call to our department in New York and frankly ask them to stop it?" 

Physiognomy of ambassador colored in same ominous red and he opened his mouth, ready to yell, but instantly the door swung open and several men erupted into the office. At closer look one of them turned out to be the local police   
officer, whereas two others were Embassy guards. 

"Mr. Dannerwort, sorry, but this man insisted on seeing you," gasped one of the guards. "I've told you I'm busy, and asked not to disturb me!" snapped ambassador in response, readily returning from the cosmological problems to routine bureaucracy. However, the officer fought his way to the table and blurted out something on Arabic. Then , seeing blank expression on ambassador's face (languages weren't Mr. Dannerwort's strong point), he continued on ragged English. " American...ze tourist...found dead in saloon "Omar-el-Haium" near El Giza Bridge." 

"So what?" asked Mr. Dannerwort indifferently, picking up the report. 

Policeman stared at him something like minute in full bewilderment, but then his emotions apparently overflowed and he burst in set of incoherent screams in Arabic. Julian Randy turned at last from the window, partly because meteor rain ceased, and addressed to one of the guards "Would you please translate his speech?" 

"Well…" started the guard, with rather confused expression on his face "If exclude the rude language...Basically, he said that Americans had bewitched the inn." 

Red of ambassador's face darkened and turned into bluish purple, while his secretary had been trying to stiff outburst of giggles. 

"What the Hell," screeched Mr. Dannerwort. "Get this lunatic out of here, now!" 

"Well, aren't we supposed to listen his complain?" asked Randy innocently, winking at the guard. 

"This man's saying they turned all beverages in the inn into the blood," explained the last, with broad smirk on his face.   
"Completely destroyed one of the living rooms and kidnapped landlord's cat". 

"That's enough!" roared outraged ambassador."Didn't I say GET HIM OUT OF HERE?!" 

"But American citizen was murdered, wasn't him?" asked Julian Randy in same innocent tone. 

"He declared so," confirmed the guard. 

"So wouldn't it be reasonable to investigate the case?" suggested ambassador's secretary. Personally, he was pretty sure that all the affair is no more than the pile of crap, but anyway it would be more fascinating than to listen Dannerwort's waspish remarks about his monthly report. 

"About what you are talking?" barked Mr. Dannerwort, searching through the heaps of papers on his table. "Get this man to the psychiatrist and let us proceed with your..." 

But the next shot of policeman's screams interrupted him. 

"He said that the name of victim was Mr.Burns, and also that the man named O'Connell is suspected in committing the crime." 

"O'Connell?" moaned poor ambassador."Oh no, only not him. Randy, go and check what happened." 

Young man was only too ready to obey this order.   


*************   


Julian Randy wasn't a very nice guy. Actually, he was damned son of a bitch, as all of his relatives proclaimed. He must have been insulted, because his mother, late Beatrice Mournblood, was a pure lady, but somehow he wasn't. And relatives had their reasons to call him different names, because he'd lost all his father's estate in gambling, along with family esteem and pride and stuff. Not that he cared a lot about family esteem and pride and stuff. 

He had been expelled from the university on his second year, then was noticed associating with mischievous and obviously-not-low-abiding guys, apparently professional gamblers and bootleggers, so his senior relatives, namely uncle David, decided to cool the young renegade in hot southern climate and sent him from the Big Apple to the Cairo, to take a tedious job of ambassador's first secretary. He wasn't over-enthusiastic about this plan, but uncle paid part of his gambling debts and sorted part of his problems with police, under the condition that he would reside in Cairo at least for three next years. 

Now, after three months of stiffing heat, stinky streets, buzzing flies and boring work he started to think longingly about New-York state prison. He was 23 now, and the best career he could expect was transfer to Teheran . Not very promising future for the young man who used to stake thousands in poker and send an expensive jewelry presents to opera girls. But poverty wasn't the worst , of course. Boredom. That was the most intolerable thing in this damned eastern hole of a town. 

That's why Mr. Julian Randy, first secretary of American Ambassador in Cairo, was humming a merry melody, when he ran down the Embassy stairs to the crowded Sharia el Salibah street. He still was humming it, when his car skidded in front of ill-fated saloon "Omar-el-Haium".   


PLEASE, TELL ME - SHALL I GO ON?   
  
  



	2. Rather lousy investigation.

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**Chapter 1: Rather lousy investigation.**   
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"No, I really don't think I want to look at it," moaned Randy, but nothing had helped. 

He had been already at the inn's entrance when almost collided with short burly man, wearing black trousers, white shirt and red waistcoat . Man jumped back and yelled "Ah, at last they've sent somebody!". 

Apparently, the Embassy numbers on the car was the reason of this exclamation. Anyway, the man snatched Julian's sleeve and dragged him though the little inner yard and upstairs. They passed a tiny fountain, and Randy gaped at the red drops dangling over its rim. It really looked just like blood, but he didn't have time for proper examination. Burly fellow was dragging him up the staircase with the persistence of ant, pulling a huge maggot to his nest. 

"Who the Hell are you?" asked Randy at last with his usual politeness, when they climbed upstairs. 

"I'm Valentine Bovenue, doctor of medicine, also local surgeon and gynecologist", answered fat guy, with strong French accent in his voice. 

"I'm not sure I need a gynecologist right now," said Randy cautiously, looking for way to retreat. 

"Oh, that. Don't bother, this case has nothing to do with it. Rather, vivisection or something like that", smiled Dr. Bovenue broadly. "Welcome and take a look." 

Randy's worst anticipations were nothing comparing to reality. The guy before him obviously was dead. But he didn't look like he had been killed this morning-rather, like as if the murder took place something like 100 years ago, and all this time the remnants were buried in the sands of desert. Dry like sand, greenish wrinkled skin almost exposed the skull, empty sockets invited an unasked thoughts about worms and bugs and all this pretty insect life, flourishing on corpses. 

"Damn", gurgled Randy finally, fighting with the fit of sickness "What have happened with this guy?" 

"Well", chirruped the doctor "First of all, his eyes and his tongue had been cut before all this mess happened".   
He waved carelessly at the sad remnants. 

"Nice to hear it", muttered Randy, pacing through the room to look at the shot traces on the walls. There was obviously good fighting in here, but it seemed that bullets has nothing to do with Mr. Burn's death. 

"As about the way of killing" continued reckless Dr. Bovenue. "I'm still not sure. Of course, almost complete and instantaneous dehydration of organism, and look at his tissues-it's appears to be…well, mummified". 

"Mummified", repeated Randy thoughtlessly, peering at the window lashes, sill and ripped drapery. They were full of sand, not the grayish street dust, but the red sand of central Sahara. He remembered this special tint of vast spaces, stretching out under the diving airplane. 

"Mummified". Then the meaning of these words penetrated his pondering. "How could it be? Police guy claimed that this man was murdered today, and, ignorant as I am, I know pretty well that mummification takes time. Hundreds of years or even more". 

"Sure. But it's not usual mummification. I need to make a resection, but I have a strong suspicion that tongue and eyes are not his only missed organs. However, I cannot see any cuts or holes or wounds…" 

"Okay", Randy interrupted him hurriedly, not going to listen a lecture about poor devil's anatomy. "Take him and do whatever you think reasonable to do, then let me know the results. Now I'm going to talk with the buddies of this unhappy fellow, I was said that they still are staying in here".   


************   


However, this brilliant plan hadn't work. On the exit he had been intercepted by the innkeeper, who kept asking about compensation for the destroyed room, spoiled drinks and moral hazard with dull stubbornness. 

Then, when Randy finally got rid of the asshole, he was entrapped by the doctor again, this time it was concerning the fate of late Mr. Burns remnants. Doctor was eager to put them in his private collection of fossils and mummies, and dropped this idea only after long and furious quarrel. 

Then he again ran into innkeeper, who was screaming about the end of the world and ominous conspiracy of Americans, who, according to his words, were ready to ruin his business by any means. And indeed, the piece about end of the world seemed to be at least partly true, because when Randy had looked out of the window, he saw the mad crowds of people pouring on the streets. 

All of them were covered in boils and sores and shouting something like "Impotent", which didn't make much sense. 

As if it wasn't enough to drive unhappy ambassador's secretary crazy, sun decided that it's a perfect moment to have some little neat eclipse and was now almost completely obscured by dark shape of moon. In growing darkness people' cries were no more funny but rather fear-inspiring. 

However, he braced himself against what he preferred to consider a stupid eastern superstitions and strode down the corridor to the Americans' rooms. To his great irritation, the guard who was supposed to watch the doors was missing, rooms empty, no trace of their inhabitants anywhere. Same for O'Connell's room. Then he recalled that on doctor said something about the girl, who first discovered the body. 

Randy hunted down the panicking landlord, who was hurriedly packing his stuff, ready to close the inn, and asked him about the mysterious disappearance of Americans, O'Connell and the lady. After minute hesitation (which abruptly ceased when Mr. Randy produced a big cocked Colt) he related that the named persons departed in the car about half a hour ago, and that upon leaving they shouted something about Cairo Museum of Antiquities. 

Cursing under his breath, Julian ran to his own (or, rather, Embassy) car, jumped in it and speeded toward the Museum, which was in the northern part of the city, near the river, and, that was lucky part of the story, on the same Sharia el-Salibah street where the Embassy resided. It meant that the possibility to get amiss in the narrow winded side lanes was minimal. However, it also meant that the shortest way was through the Khan El Hakim Bazaars, and that wasn't too good, because all the boiled-and-sored guys appeared to be heading in this direction.They were carrying torches, and the red flames danced and flashed on their ugly maimed faces. Now he could hear their cries more distinctly, and it became clear that the strange word they were repeating sounded like "Imhotep".   
  


HEY, SHOULD I PROCEED? 


	3. More about detective methods of Mr.Randy...

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**Chapter 3: More about detective methods of Mr.Randy.**   
  


At last he reached Khan El Hakim Bazaars, but here his car got stuck among the dense crowds of howling people. Julian stared at ugly faces around with strong apprehension and disgust, then tried to turn the car, then to drive backward, but without any visible success. The crowd behind was even more dense than in front, and all those abominable guys tried to push their way forward, as if attracted by cheap sell of anti-dermatitis drugs, which they certainly needed. They didn't put any attention of furious honking of the horn, no more on Randy's cursing.   
  
But then the screams came. Not the "Imhotep" yelling or cheering, but just horrible shrieking of man in strong pain. That was a last drop on the top of all day events, so without any further thinking Randy jammed the gas pedal, put car on gear and crushed in the bulk of human bodies. The car was old huge Ford Lincoln, and it made the crowd part and scamper off, at least in extent sufficient to drive forward toward the source of terrible screams. And then he saw it, and instantly the only Arabic word he did know popped in his mind. "Basa". It meant "Shit". 

Several of boiled guys crouched over the bloody lump on the ground, diligently tearing it apart. It took several moments for Randy to realize that bloody lump on the ground was a man. Or at least it used to be. 

When the first wave of bewilderment surfed apart, the young man drew his revolver and without any hesitations shot the bastards dead. Then he jumped out the car, hauled the mutilated body onto the back seat and…several hundreds of enraged wailing assholes blocked his way out of the square. Not a bit scared by the awful fate of their comrades, they appeared to be ready to continue their filthy work. Not that Julian's plans included the piece about being tore apart by the pack of mad bastards in the middle of dirty eastern market square. 

He started the car, but this time dozens of people gripped the doors and windscreen, obviously determined to block his way by their own bodies. "Imhotep" howling soared over the crowd in the pitch-black sky like the hunting cry of jackals. Randy shot several of the intruders, but he hadn't had time to reload the gun. 

Then his desperate searching glance fell on the nearest tent, with dozen of enormous jars perched in front of it. He hoped beyond hope it was oil or something flammable. Let it be! 

Randy snatched the torch (with which one of the rampaging cads tried to put out his eye) and threw it on the dirty fabric of the tent's roof. Cloth blasted apart immediately, sending a furious scarlet flashes and sparks in the faces of attackers. They howled, this time in pain, and rushed back, overturning the jars on their way. Several of the huge pitchers broke, and a burning liquid splashed over the feet of crowd, and immediately the nearest men were rolling onto the ground, turned into the fire balls and shrieking in agony. It left enough space for Randy to start the car and speed toward the burning hell of the tent. For one terrible moment flaming fabric wrapped itself around the windscreen, but then the motor roared, fabric snapped and they were free, speeding in the blessed darkness of night.   
  


******   
  


The man on the back seat moaned, still alive to Randy's great surprise. One of his eyes was put out, second swollen and blind, cheekbone broken and whole body covered in blood, pouring from dozens of wounds. But he was still alive. Randy cursed. He needed a surgeon. But he didn't know any surgeon in this blasted city, except of notorious Mr.Bovenue. Not the best choice, but it looked like the only one he had. He hoped that this idler was still dancing around his long-awaited birthday-cake, i.e. remnants of unlucky Mr.Burns, back in the inn. So it was there he drived through the night city, strangely silent after all the shouting and killing and burning back in the market. 

Valentine Bovenue indeed was at the inn, actually, he and his assistants seemed to be the only inhabitants of the place. He greeted Randy at the entrance with happy exclamations 

"Could you believe it, we have one more of those mummified corpses down here!" 

"Oh yes I could" answered Julian sulky and escorted the doctor to the car, were poor man was breathing shallowly, in short ragged breaths. 

"Merde!" shrieked Dr. Bovenue and waved to his subordinates to come and take the poor wretch upstairs, where he had organized something like temporal coroner's laboratory. 

When they've hoisted the victim onto the bad, Dr.Bovenue frowned and turned to Randy "You know what…I know him." 

But young man already recognized the wounded himself. It was curator of Cairo Museum. Randy visited the Egyptian exposition several times at the beginning of his stay, strongly considering about robbing it and fleeing back in US with handful of expensive golden trinkets. However, he had dropped the idea, basically because of the size of golden trinkets, which were in general sarcophaguses and huge statues. And now it proved to be a rather good decision.   
  


*****   
  


Several hours after Julian Randy was sitting in the Bovenue's room, drinking coffee and staring at the evidences which he managed to collect on the crime scene. Coffee sucked a lot, because he didn't get any sugar, and evidences sucked, too, because they looked extremely weird. 

First of all, he went through the pages of his notebook. There were several witnesses, who overheard conversation of O'Connell and American guys in the bar. Part of them were still lurking around when he returned from his little salvage mission, and one was extremely talkative-namely, fat aged whore who seemed to have a particular interest in the conversation with young secretary and was greatly disappointed when he had left her without any attempt to continue their acquaintance and deepen relationship. 

However, she had been useful, because mentioned that Americans, O'Connell, young Carnarvon lady and her brother returned together from the desert trip, and also she eavesdropped the name of the place they had visited- "Hamunaptra". The name didn't tell him much but gave some stuff to think about. 

And then the evidences he'd got from the Burns' room. The dirty shabby robes, which certainly didn't look like the main item of American's clothing, overturned cup with the last drops of liquid it - the liquid looked like green tea, smelled like green tea and hence possibly was a green tea; then several bullets and one fat black dead beetle. 

"Ok, Holmes", muttered Julian to himself, spitting a coffee onto the floor and slamming the notebook shut "What could you see here?" 

The most surprising part of his findings wasn't the robe or tea or even beetle, but bullets. Two of them he had picked out the back wall of the room, and five he had found lying onto the floor. Young man frowned. He wasn't good in criminology or entomology, but he was pretty certain about shooting. And all his shooting experience convinced him that bullets are not predisposed just to fall onto the ground. Rather, when you shot them, they would be inclined to get stuck in something-or somebody. Whatever. Of course they could ricochet, but five of them? 

He scratched the back of his head, then ran his arm through his dark hair in confusion. It looked like they'd hit something…and then this something dissolved in thin air, leaving them lay onto the floor. Which sounded pretty stupid, on Randy's guess. 

Then he picked up the beetle…and almost fell off his chair when the squeaky voice from behind screeched "Oh, what a nice specimen of _Scarabaeidae Deltochilum gibbosum_!" 

"What?" blurted Randy when his chair stopped to rock threateningly. 

"I've never seen one so big before, however", continued Dr. Bovenue, the owner of squeaky voice."It looks just like legendary flesh-eating scarab from ancient Egyptian tales." 

"Flesh-eating scarab?" repeated Julian blankly. 

"Yes, precisely". Doctor picked the insect and stroked his fat belly dreamy. "You know, usual scarabs are dung-eaters, but some people believe that ancient Egyptians had a different…say, strain, which lived on human flesh. Some scientists consider that they used them to prepare the mummies, but I doubt it." 

"That was very edifying", muttered Randy. "But what the Hell this flesh-eating little bastard was doing there?" 

Then his face cleared, and he peered at the two corpses, lying at the back of the room and covered with sheets. 

"Look, you said that part of their organs are missing". 

"Yes, I did", nodded the doctor. 

"Well, let me put it this way-if our murderer managed to push this little buggie down the throat of those guys, wouldn't it eat away their liver or stomach or whatever?" 

"That's possible. But first they'd die of strangulation, look at the size of beetle." 

"Okay. But we don't know how they died." 

Then he looked at the cup. 

"Listen to me, doc. Couldn't it be some poison?" 

"I don't think so", replied Mr.Bovenue with doubtful smile. "At least not the one I'm familiar with." 

But Randy ignored him, busy fabricating a scheme. 

"Now look. Those guys were in the desert. With this blasted O'Connell, who proved himself to be a great scoundrel and treasure seeker. And with the girl, who happened to be the librarian in Cairo Museum. What were they looking for? Certainly not a good mouthful of Sahara sand. I'd say some treasure. Tomb robbing, grave desecrating, so on". He smiled at this point because tomb robbing and grave desecrating were precisely the things he'd do if the occasion came. 

"Well. And when the big good pile of gold smiles to you, you sometimes forget about your gentleman habits. You said that Burns' tongue was cut out before his death? So may be he knew something about the location of treasure, but somebody wanted him to shut up about it?" 

Doctor appeared to be sincerely enjoying the flight of Randy's imagination, but at that point he shrugged and drawled skeptically "Truthfully, I don't think so. With his tongue severed he still could speak, not too clear but clear enough to understand him. And, besides, he could write. If you really want to make somebody mute, you need also make holes in his cheeks, to leave teeth exposed, and I'd cut his arms also to make writing impossible and…" 

Randy chuckled, making a note never cross Bovenue's way, and then waved impatiently to stop the current of doctor's eloquence. 

"Ok, ok, I got it. Never mind. Again, I'm petty sure about treasure part. The next question is, who did the job? This dullard of inspector insisted it was O'Connell." 

"Oh, that was a bad guess. I know O'Connell. Actually, everyone who lived in Cairo enough knows him. Of course, he's a scoundrel and very dissipated young man, but not a murderer." 

Randy wasn't convinced, however, and continued his reasoning. 

"Let's us see. They guys went to the desert, found the treasure and have now a big problem dividing it. Ok. O'Connell came to Burns, poisoned him, fed him scarab beetle to remove his guts for no apparent reason, then Burns' friends tries to shot him, but all the story ends up with Henderson also killed and Daniels joining forces with O'Connell's gang, because they'd left together for Cairo Museum. Sounds stupid." 

Dr.Bovenue readily confirmed this conclusion and went to check on curator's pulse.   
Randy dumped coffee in the sink, filled the cup with a new portion of abominable drink and went on guessing. 

"Well, as Mr.Holmes taught us if you cannot see the natural way to explain the case don't worry and use the unnatural one. First, tongue and eyes. Doesn't look like a thing European or even American guy is ready to do. Rather, looks like the some idiotic savage ritual. And, because we don't have savages in our company, except may be O'Connell but I don't take him into account, we must put a "third player" in our game.   


"Okay. He, or they, doesn't matter at the moment, appears to dwell in the desert, and our sweet party dragged them at Cairo on their tails. Nice. Returning to the hypothesis about tomb robbing, we have the next picture: O'Connel, girl, her brother and Americans came to the some ancient burial place, hiding a big treasure. They erupted into it, and our mysterious friends didn't like it very much. They had captured Burns and had cut off his tongue and put out his eyes. But hadn't killed him for some reason. May be they tried to trace him back to the company, or may be they are too merciful to kill…no, they aren't, according to further events, but never mind. Anyway, they traced them back to Cairo and here they got first Burns, and then Henderson. Question: what have something or somebody named "Imhotep" to do with t? Question: what the Hell happened to people on the streets, oh yes I understand that all Muslims are mental but it was a bit too much even for them. And what about this poor curator guy and Cairo Museum?" 

Randy looked desperately at his coffee cup and seized his hair, trying to speed up his tired thoughts. 

Then he muttered "Hamunaptra". 

Behind him he heard a loud thud and turned to see the worthy doctor sitting on the floor with his eyes as large as dinner plates. 

"Er…what did I say?" 

"What did you say?" echoed Mr. Bovenue. 

"Hamunaptra. The place where the story starts, according to my notes. I just considered about checking out the savage tribes around it, so on. Come on, man, what happened?" 

Doctor scrambled on his feet with visible effort and slumped onto the curator's bed. 

"You don't know the legend? About the ancient city guarded by mummy curse?" 

"You know, I'm not a big fan of this legends stuff. Except when it speaks about the big hidden treasure…" 

"But it speaks about the hidden treasure! About treasure of Pharaoh Seti the First, more correctly. It was cursed and guarded by the undead mummy, who, if was unleashed, would bring a ten plagues of Egypt…" 

The burly man choked and his eyes bulged a little more, which Randy considered as practically impossible. 

"Flies! Sun eclipse! Blood in the waters!" 

Randy grinned in disbelief. 

"Come on, man. Don't make me think that old Moses was nobody else than resurrected mummy!" 

"You won't fool around these things here in Egypt!" stuttered the doctor, losing his usual vigor with frightening speed. 

Randy, who got enough today, was ready to go on scoffing, but instantly the muffled moan came from the bed. The bandaged lump on it stirred, moaned again and then opened his only remained eye. And then this sad remnant of man gurgled 

"The creature!"   
  
  
  
  
  


SHALL I ASK? PLEASE TELL ME IF I SHOULD CONTINUE!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Whatever is left.

AU4.html   
  


**Disclaimer: Well, well, guys, I had strong temptation to make whole story actual bluff, but action/adventure part overpowered. I'm still not sure it's a best decision, so let me know what do you want-real adventure or just little prank. Have fun and please review!**   
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**Chapter 4: Whatever is left.**   
  
  
  
_When you eliminate all the impossible explanations, whatever_   
_ is left is your goddamn answer…no matter how crazy it looks._   


Mr. Holmes/Mr. Randy   


First beams of sun met Randy halfway to his car. He stretched, yawned, and took a good breath of chilly morning air. Morning was the only more or less pleasant part of day in Cairo-after stiffing hot night and before stiffing hot noon. In the morning, when the shadows of minarets and cypresses crossed empty streets, when the rosy glints sparkled in the glass of narrow windows, and aroma of fresh coffee floated over small street cafes-then it was a nice place to live. Randy smiled absently, pulled the crumbled packet of cigarettes from his pocket, took one, inhaled the stinky smoke…and all the paradise of morning Cairo crashed with big loud thud. Damn, they even didn't have Pal Mal down here!   


*****   


The night was pure Hell, including laments of sinners (this part was played perfectly by the wounded curator), plunging in abyss and a lot of bullshit. Curator related to Mr. Holmes (i.e. Mr. Randy) and Dr. Watson (i.e. Dr. Bovenue) terrible story, with walking mummies, ancient curses and even one volcano crater, which was the exact location of notorious Hamunaptra. Dr. Bovenue was intrigued enough to pull the old dusty map of Egypt from the drawer and unfortunate curse-keeper showed them the spot where the story began. It looked like he tried to persuade Mr. Randy to help O'Connell, but Julian thought better of it. 

Then curator informed them about horrible fate of Egyptologist and Mr. Daniels. Randy didn't believe one word, so he awakened the diligent police officer Abdullah Ibn Rahmalla in the middle of the night, and searched the Sharia el-Salibah street, not without success. Two more mummies were added to Dr. Bovenue's collection, to the last's great rapture. Then on their way back to the hostel Randy felt enormous craving for a cigarette, so he nearly frightened the cigarettes-shop owner to death, drumming in the door at 3 AM. When the desired item was obtained, it turned out to be a cheapest and most stinky stuff he ever tried, which again subjected the merchant's life to the frightful danger, and only presence of two sulky Arab policemen restrained Julian from homicide.   


******   


When Dr. Bovenue finished his jubilation about new mummified guys and surly policemen cleared out, Randy put his feet on the table, kindled abominable cigarette, which filled the room with greenish fumes, and started to make conclusions. 

"Well, Watson, what do you think about this bullshit?" 

Dr. Bovenue, mildly surprised by instant change in his surname, replied: 

"I don't know. And I don't think it's exactly…well…khm…this kind of thing. I've heard the legend before, and all these anomalous miracles, it looks very suspicious " 

"Yeah, it _does_ look suspicious. But I don't give a shit for all this mummy blubbering. I am sure you graduated some university or medical school or whatever, didn't you? And do you still believe it? I don't think so." 

"Well", grumbled the meritorious doctor with distinct trace of irritation in his voice. "Then how would you explain the thing?" 

"Oh, that's simple. As I've said, the main point is the treasure" 

" I didn't hear a word about any treasure yet" 

"Of course you didn't. Because the friends of this guy" he waved carelessly at curator, who had fainted again after their conversation." Because they were not the lucky bastards who have found the golden fish. It was their company" he nodded at four mummified corpses, peacefully piled in the corner. 

Doctor smiled with obvious disbelief, and muttered: 

"If so, no much luck they'd got from their gold" 

"Opposite, my dear doctor!" drawled Julian, looking annoyingly smug. "You still didn't get the point, did you? Want some clues? Well, here is the first one- are you sure that these nice mummies indeed belong to Burns, Henderson, Daniels and their educated guide, this Egyptologist guy?" 

"What do you mean?" asked Bovenue, crinkling his brow. 

"But that's simple! Look, they are mummies, pretty dry, nasty and ancient at first sight. So why did you decide that they are not what they _do_ looks like ? Say, some guy with lack of respect to dead pulled those beauties out of their dusty sarcophaguses, put on them clothes of our dear friends and left them to rest in our friends' rooms. Looking like a nice joke, doesn't it?" 

Dr. Bovenue pondered a little, then nodded reluctantly "Yes, it might be possible" 

"Oh, you see it now. The question is, who really needed to organize the show. And the most obvious answer is that our guys themselves are the most interested persons. If they found something in the desert, looking behind their shoulder to keep the O'Connell's party out of the business, what would be the most reasonable thing to do at the first place? Say, you have the treasure and you have other hunters who are eager to put their hands on it. The first thing to do is to get rid of them. And how? Simple-minded people would kill them on the spot, end of the problem. But our guys weren't the simple-minded ones, oh not. They decided to scare the shit…" 

At that point Bovenue interrupted "Stop, stop. What about Mr. Burns? He was from Egyptologist's party, but he was blinded and his tongue was cut…" 

"Doesn't matter!" Julian rejected doctor's objection impatiently. "May be the guy was too talkative or too honest and wanted the fair play. I don't know. They just showed their nature the first time, and judging by the bludgeon they were planning to organize on the market it was not the worst of their tricks. But you'll see. 

"So, they played all this nice mummy show. By the way, I'm sure that the girl who had found the sarcophagus belongs to their gang. Look, they picked her on the market, to go back to Hamunaptra with them, and it was her idea to read idiotic book. Brilliant scenario, even I didn't get them at once" 

Smug smile flashed on Julian's face again, and doctor felt instantly a strong urge to kick the guy's ass. 

"Our birdies fled back to Cairo, screaming blue murderer. But now Henderson's gang need their hands untied, to come back and pick the gold. So what have they done? They simply died, one by one. No one is going to disturb their peace anymore! And at the same time they scared the last O'Connell's wits off his head, pretty good job. But, being an idiot, he didn't stop. I'm sure the girl tried to get rid of him, something like "I caused the problem and I'll do with it on my own". But, of course, this nitwit stayed here, messing their nice scheme. Now they decided that's time for wet work, a bit of harshness adorning the nice ornament. I'm sure they've brought part of the gold with them, so they hired all those bastards, don't know where did they pick them, may be in the nearest hospital for leprosy guys, judging by their abominable snouts. Anyhow, the one real murder was going to take place on the bazaar…" 

But the adept of medicine interfered again 

"What about the man curator described? He certainly wasn't one of your fictional gang's members. And I don't think that resurrected decomposed mummies are easy to walk into, even here in Cairo" 

"And who saw him decomposed? Curator said that he had glimpsed a tall shaved man with dark tan, wearing old black robes. Well, shave me and give me robes, tan and height I've got already, and you'd get the description of your ill-fated mummy. May be he is an actor in local theater or something like that. Or may be he's just lady's boyfriend, may be he simply wanted to do some good for his beloved, hey. Come on, say I' right." 

"And sun eclipse? Meteorite raining?" 

"Haven't you ever read "Yankee at Arthur's court"? Don't keep saying this rubbish, man, I thought better about you.   
By the way, the funniest thing is that O'Connel's friends are still keen to get the girl back, which I'm pretty sure contradicts with her plans. So they are gonna get killed, no doubts" 

It seemed that the power of Randy's imagination made the good doctor surrender at last, because he stared and asked " And what about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Aren't you going to help them?" 

"Why?" 

"Well, O'Connell is American, it's your job to get strayed American citizens out of troubles" 

"Hmm" muttered Randy, gazing at the puffs of smoke absentmindedly. Actually, it was precisely the thing that he was going to do. Only not out of his loyalty and love for strayed American souls. The ghostly haze of golden radiance kept wavering in front of his inner eye. The treasure. It was the main stake in this intricate game, and he was an addicted gambler himself.   


*******   


Dr. Bovenue waved him farewell from the hostel entrance, and yelled "Please be cautious, Mr. Randy!" 

Mr. Randy grinned broadly "Cautious is my middle name" 

Then he jumped in his car (he forgot completely that it was actually Embassy car and that Mr. Dannerwort wouldn't be too much pleased walking on foot down the dusty Cairo lanes), honked the horn and drove toward the UK Military Airforce airfield.   
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Flashlight.

AU5.html   


**Chapter 5: Flashlight**. 

  
_-The death is only the beginning._   
  
Imhotep   
  


Old Ford thundered down the Cairo streets, sending a clouds of yellow dust in the morning air.   
Randy watched the rising sun, huge and purple, trudging its way up the azure sky over the roofs and tree-tops. Light breeze drifted overhead, caressing palm-trees' leaves, and Randy's thoughts drifted with it in lazy procession. Piles of gold and ancient jewelry, along with marble villa somewhere in Florida or, may be, big and flourishing casino in Las-Vegas were not the last participants of it. However, one point kept disturbing this Arcadia, i.e. the existence of several nasty-tempered guys who for no apparent reason were also interested in the treasure. 

"Ok", said our detective to himself, squinting at red sun disk. "Let's think positively. The main question is who are the leader and the wits of the gang. Use deduction, Julian, my son, and you'll get your answer. 

"The guy must have some knowledge in Egyptian legends and also local superstitions, so our poor Americans are obviously excluded. No way they could conceive such a thrilling piece of shit. Now, who remains in the list? Egyptologist, of course, he must have known something about all this mummy history. The guide, what the hell was his name? Right, Beni. He looks very suspicious, of course he knew all this fabulous mummy stuff, and looks like very evasive and foxy little bastard. And then the girl. She is a librarian in Cairo museum, so all bookworm stuff is out of question. She had lived here enough to learn all the fire-tales about curses and walking corpses. And…she had read from the book, she had found the mummy, and, continuing this way, she had led O'Connell's party to Hamunaptra! Dammy, it's she hundred percent! " 

Randy gasped and clapped his arm to his forehead, sending Ford Lincoln zigzagging like crazy blind armadillo. 

"What I bit of idiot I was! Of course, this maddening scenario is her nice artwork! She must have known where to find damn mummy to start the show, and she'd led O'Connell straight to the spot.   
I guess she's a smart girl…Brilliant mind and sickening intelligence, that's it " 

Little smile curled the edge of Julian's mouth. He liked smart girls very much, but this passion was kind of platonic love, because he had never met one. Now, it seemed, he had his chance… 

At this happy point his pondering was interrupted, because in his concentration he had missed the gates and had drove right into the sign "UK Royal Military Airforce", smashing it into splinters. Cursing, he slammed the brakes and the car skidded to halt halfway into the little khaki tent. Randy expected that the owner of the tent would jump out (if he wasn't to scrape himself off the car wheels), swearing, but nothing happened. Then the bellow of rotors made him look toward the airfield, to see tiny shabby plane taking off, its wings shuddering in the turbulent air stream. 

"Shit!" cried Randy. The plane was only way to get to Hamunaptra fast enough, and, no doubts, O'Connell was the first in this race. Nasty trick of fortune. However, being professional gambler, Randy was used to nasty tricks of fortune. He examined now empty airfield with searching eye and spotted a little boy in the far corner of it, fidgeting with big gramophone pipe. Judging by hustle in boy's movements, he had stolen it right away after the pilot's departure. Randy waved to kid, bidding him to approach, but with entirely different result: kid jumped, dropped the pipe and sprinted toward the farther edge of the field. However, not fast enough to beat the long-legged Mr. Julian, who was very skilled in running away after several arguments with New York State Police. He gained on with the kid, leaped forward and snatched boy's elbow. Kid squealed, twitched, and two of them fell sprawling onto the ground. 

Minute later the dust cloud dissipated, and Julian found himself sitting on the top of yelping boy. The kid was Arab, with bronze tan and huge dark eyes, now bulging in horror. However, it became clear that the kid wasn't as bewildered as he looked for, because next moment he plunged his surprisingly sharp teeth in Randy's forearm. Young man hissed and shook the boy off his hand, which took some effort. Then he gave him a little jolt to make him behave, and grunted "You, little rat's brat, could you speak English?" 

The boy, obviously surprised by the little amount of beating, piped "Yes, sir. Please don't beat me, sir! It was my gramophone, Winston said I could take it!" 

"I don't care about this damned gramophone, you little thief! Have you seen the men on this plane?" 

"Yes, sir. T'was O'Connell and John Carnarvon, and one more guy with them with tattoos all over his face." 

Obviously, it was Med-Ji guy, one of the curse-keepers. One more pain in the ass. 

"Ok, listen to me. You see this one?" 

Julian produced a one-pound banknote and swung it in front of boy's nose. Kid gaped and reached for it, but Randy yanked it back. 

"Not so fast, little rascal. Tell me first, if there is one more plane in this goddamn hole of Cairo?" 

"Yes, sir" whispered kid, mesmerized by the sight of money. "Izi've got one for his "Magical Carpet Ltd."" 

"Show me where it is and it's yours".   


**********   


Izi turned out to be short black guy with squeaking voice and cautious manners. He blankly declined the honor to convey Ambassador's secretary to some unknown spot in deep desert. Randy showed him fifty pounds, but the guy kept muttering something about his shot ass and broken ailerons. At last it got on Randy's nerves, and he declared 

"Listen to me, sonny. If you don't move your shot ass and don't fly wherever I had said immediately, you will find yourself under investigation about drugs smuggling, and you will be subject to revocation of license, penalties in excess of ten thousands dollars, and twenty years in jail. But don't worry about all this things, buddy…" continued Julian, smiling ominously. 

"Nothing of it will actually happen, because I'm going to kill you right now, confiscate your plane and fly to Hamunaptra by myself. You see, I have had several flying lessons and now I'm going to use them for good" 

With these words Julian unholstered his Colt, cocked it and aimed at Izi's forehead. Guy paled (which, considering the color of his skin, meant that he became slightly gray and slightly grin), trembled and scampered to the plane, crying "We are takin off right now!" Randy smiled complacently and followed him to the second pilot seat. 

Hour later they crossed the Nile and were flying over the enormous yellowish bowl of Sahara. Their shadow on the ground leaped from one sand dune to another, frightening tiny gray lizards, baking in hot sunbeams. Roaring of rotors through the swishing wind was only sound in these lone spaces. Randy squinted through the blinding torrent of dusty air, hoping to spot another plane. However, it wasn't the plane what he had seen. Over the far horizon raised enormous yellow wall, veiling the sky and the desert, obscuring one's vision. 

"What the Hell is this?" cried Julian, bending to bellow right into pilot's ear. 

"Dunno!" yelled Izi back, note of panic in his voice. "But be I damned if I'd fly there!" 

"Oh yes you will, boy!" cried Julian, jamming the pistol's barrel in back of Izi's neck. "Or you'll fly right down, without wings and propellers!" 

It seemed that Izi might prefer the second option when the wall instantly quivered and crashed down, with fountains of sand springing from the ground. Randy had I deem impression that he'd noticed a cross of falling plane in the sandstorm, picking to the ground, but he wasn't sure, it was too far to be confident.   


Soon they traversed the ridge of gray rocks and Randy gasped in awe-magnificent walls and giant statues of Dead City lay beneath the wings of the plane. But soon he realized one thing…and Izi realized it, too. 

"Hey, buddy, I have no place to land here!" 

"You better try to find one, if you don't want to see your brains on your windscreen" hissed Mr. Randy, but with no avail. He surveyed sand hillocks, rocks and ruined buildings, with no place for landing. 

"Kill me if you want", squeaked Izi, sending the plane upwards. "But I can do nothing!" 

"Shit" muttered Randy. Then closed his eyes, prayed to all known and unknown gods benevolent to idiots, loosened the belt and cried "Fly down!" 

When little aircraft jumped down, trembling violently in the rising streams of hot air, Randy crawled on the wing, cursed and dropped on the sand. 

******** 

Force of inertia rolled him several times, but at last he scrambled on his feet, spitting sand and blood from his injured lip. In front of him erected giant ornamented portico, half obliterated by sands and winds. Behind it was a squat building, or may be tomb, with gaping hole of entrance and traces of digging around it. Randy didn't like the sight at all, but all suggested that the treasure chamber must be inside, in the depth of necropolis, so he shrugged, pulled the flashlight out his pocket, clutched it in his left hand, cocked the Colt in the right and crept down the stairs, into the gaping darkness of Dead City. 

Inside he clicked the flashlight on and the narrow white beam lighted cracked walls with patches of yellow mold and ancient painting. Julian glanced at the mold apprehensively, recalling the stories about poisonous fungus inside the Pharaohs' crypts. He glided down the corridor, careful to make as little noise as possible and moving with almost inhuman grace. He turned a corner and then some weird creepy noise made him freeze on the spot. Screeching and buzzing, as if thousands bugs decided to have a riotous party down here. Then the sound faded away and Randy continued his moving. He was wondering where the rest of treasure-seekers had been hiding and whether they'd finished O'Connell and his buddies already. As if to answer this question sounds of screaming and fight came from the far end of the corridor, along with dim yellow light. Randy switched his flashlight off and hurried towards the source of noise. 

Corridor ended abruptly by wide arch, and Randy blinked at the light streaming from it. He crept forward soundlessly, trying to keep near the wall and thumbing the hammer of his Colt. Screaming instantly stopped, transforming into deem words on unknown language, and Julian poked his head from the corridor to survey the scene. He looked down the immense hall, illuminated by torches and strange radiance rising from the black pool in the middle of it, and his jaw dropped. 

All around the hall were scattered shreds of corpses or something that looked like corpses, only actually they were severed mummies, as Randy checked himself. In the middle of room by the erected tablet were staying two guys: short thin jerk, jumping on his toes, and girl with enormous gold-bound book in her hands. He was reading from the book something, which sounded pretty like "Phocus-Pokus-Amoebus-Proteus". But it weren't the girl and her companion who made Julian goggle in disbelief. Near the pool stayed a tall, half-naked and dark-tanned guy, clutching the neck of another, also not-so-miniature guy in his hand so that the feet of the last were dangling a foot over the floor. Instantly girl stopped her reading and slammed the book shut with loud snap. Randy raised his gun, ready to shoot or shout or run or whatever, but then the scary marvels started to occur. 

Luminous swirling portal opened in the wall, and semi-transparent chariot with couple of semi-transparent guys thundered down the stairs and rushed right through dark-tanned person, who already let go of his buddy's neck. Randy watched in utmost bewilderment as semi-transparent copy of guy was snatched by mysterious charioteers and dragged away. It appeared that the victim of this strange procedure missed his ghostly win, because the guy ran after the chariot crying blue murderer (ad Randy was pretty sure that murderer he was, but was he also blue? He didn't look like, but…). Anyway, chariot dissolved in solid wall, and the pursuer stopped and turned on his tracks, looking murderously. He snarled something and strode toward his former victim, who was now holding big ancient sword. 

"Uhoh", muttered Randy, because the murder was obviously coming. Time to show himself. He leaped out of his hiding place, raised his gun and cried "All of you guys, don't move, police!" 

Girl, short man and owner of the sword gaped at him, but half-naked jerk didn't put a bit of attention to his warning and rushed to sword-man (was it O'Connel? It looked like it might be), ready to kill. However, it didn't go well with Randy's plans, so he aimed and pushed the trigger. Sound of shot racketed through the huge hall, echoing like distant cannon fire. Man stumbled, blood pouring from his shoulder. He watched it trickling down his forearm in astonishment, as if he had expected to bleed in whiskey instead of blood. Randy cocked his pistol again, ready to shoot, but instantly the remote thunder shook the walls, jets of sand and little rocks started to crumble from the ceiling, floor trembled beneath their feet. 

"Time to go!" yelled the man who must have been O'Connell, snatched girl's arm and rushed to the exit, shorter man on his heels. 

"You won't go nowhere!" shouted Randy, taking aim at him. 

"You may stay if you want, idiot!" yelled the girl. Randy considered this point and decided that he rather won't. He whirled around to see the wall sealing corridor entrance, and darted after the company. With the edge of his eye he noticed that half-naked vicious guy also joined the run, apparently not crazy enough to stay in the crashing cave. They sprinted through several small rooms, then erupted into large cavernous hall, full of gold and jewels. 

"Treasure chamber!" wailed the voice in the back of Julian's mind, but he ordered it to shut up and only snatched a little golden pendant from the neck of one of the golden guys. Then they were out, speeding toward exit, while the walls of side passages kept crushing down and sealing the doors. Julian heard cries from behind, but was too busy making his legs move faster to turn and listen. And then they all ran puffing into the small room, Randy only noticed the huge statue hiding in the shadows in the back of the chamber. They hastened forward, but the door slipped down with muffled thud in front of them, sealing the exit, they turned back only to see that the gate behind them became a solid wall, too-and realized that they are ensnared, locked in the rending necropolis. Upon the realization O'Connell dropped his torche and the room sunk in complete darkness. 

Not for a long time, however. Randy switched on his flashlight and the white electric beam swept down the wall in short ragged jerks. It fell on the faces of captured men: pale and awestruck of Jonathan, desperate of O'Connell, who held terrified Evelyn in his arms, and absolutely blank and unreadable of Imhotep. Randy coughed, moved the light uneasily and said 

"Well, I guess we have enough time now. Could somebody please explain what actually had happened, if its not too much trouble?"   
  
  
  
  
  
  


**The End of the First Part.**   
  
  
  
  
  
**** ****

**Disclaimer: But don't you guys think it's a real end of affair, oh no! Read the continuation in "Scorpion King" and "Warriors of Eternity" ! Please let me know if you want to read the sequel!**   
  
  
  



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